Thumb Wars
by mandaree1
Summary: Dewey hears Webby and Louie sneaking out and jumps to conclusions.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Ducktales!**

 **Title: Thumb Wars**

 **Summary: Dewey hears Webby and Louie sneaking out and jumps to conclusions.**

 **Warnings: They're teens**

 **...**

"Hey, Webby?" Dewey called as he turned the corner to her room. "You got a spare broadsword? I lost mine in that fight with the wolpertinger."

A rustling made the boy pause, pressing his ear to the door. He heard a giggle, then what sounded suspiciously like Louie, saying "Ladies first." Dewey cracked the door slightly, deeply grateful when it didn't squeak, and peered inside, only to find the room empty.

With a quick glance behind him, the middle boy pushed the door open further and crept inside. Nothing looked all that different from normal; dangling decorations, closet full of swords, window wide open...

Dewey paused, blinking at the open window. In the distance, he could just see two figures slipping over the main fence. The second one landed perfectly, accepting an arm held out by the first, and they calmly strode off into the night. He let out a gasp. Dewey took off in a sprint out the room; then, after a few seconds, he sprinted right back, politely closing the window, then went back out.

"Huey!" Dewey shouted, shaking the boy awake. "Huey, I think Louie and Webby snuck out!"

Huey's eyes were gunky as he blinked at his younger sibling, slurring his words. "Good for them?"

"We gotta follow them," he insisted.

"We do?"

"I heard giggling."

"Okay?"

"Giggling is a sign of tomfoolery. I refuse to be left out of tomfoolery. Now _get up_."

It's no easy feat to get Huey out of bed after he's fallen asleep, but Dewey likes to think of himself as a sort of miracle worker. Huey slips on a big, poofy jacket and reluctantly follows Dewey into the chilly fall night, grumbling all the way.

The first thing they noticed was their apparel. Even as a teenager, Louie preferred a hoodie to most other clothing, but tonight he sported a nice green dress shirt and coat, reminding them of Uncle Gladstone. His feathers were fluffy, as if just preened. Webby gleefully kept pace beside him in a purple sundress, a sweater overlaying her arms (one of which was wrapped around Louie's) and a centaur horn necklace around her neck; an old battle relic. They were too far away to hear what they were saying, but even in the half-lit streets they could see their smiles.

Dewey's eyes got impossibly wide as they edged closer. "Bro. Bro. Bro." He grabbed Huey's sleeve, shaking it. " _Brooooooo_. Louie and Webby are totes going on a date."

Huey squinted at his brother. "No, they're not. Louie's gay."

"Are we _sure_ about that, though?"

"I mean, he would've told us if he was changing the label he identified with, right?"

Dewey shoved a finger into his beak triumphantly. "Not if he was canoodling with Webby! It'd be too awkward!"

"Please, for the love of all that is holy, never use 'canoodling' in the same sentence as 'Webby' again."

 _Splash!_ The boys looked up, finding Webby giggling by her lonesome. Louie pulled himself up from the tiny river he'd presumably been pushed into, frowning. He stuck his tongue out at her as he climbed out, gently shoving her shoulder. "Well, alright then," they heard him say, pulling a soggy bundle out of his pocket. "I guess you _don't_ want your present to be dry, then."

"Is that a scarf?"

"It _was_ , before you so ruthlessly wrecked it. Hand-knit, too."

Dewey shook Huey harder. "Totally dating, bro."

"Because he got her a scarf?"

"Because he _made_ her a scarf. It's _Louie_. When does he make stuff?"

Huey tapped his chin, considering. "...You've got a point." He blinked at them curiously. "But, if this _is_ a date, we should leave them be. It's a matter of privacy."

Dewey snickered. "I just realized- Webby's so _small_ , dude. How do they, like, kiss? Louie would have to pick her up almost, and we all know he's not built for that."

"Are we really questioning the logistics of our brother making out with a girl?"

"Hey, I just want to be able to tease him from every angle."

The duo looked out at the hypothetical lovebirds, only to find that they'd moved on. Dewey and Huey took off in a jog, already certain Webby had long noticed their presences. Huey could just barely make out the wet scarf around her neck.

"They're escaping," Dewey whispered, eyes narrowed, as they vanished into some bushes. "Let's bust them!"

"Let's not," Huey said hopefully, but it was too late. The boy had him by the arm, dragging him down the slight slope to the sidewalk, then off to the bushes, smiling like a supervillain.

Dewey burst through like the main attraction at a birthday party, pointing a finger at the two of them. "I knew it! You _are_ making out!"

Louie, unlike Webby, hadn't noticed them, and had the displeasure of jumping and flinching as his youngest brother made the accusation. Webby pressed her thumb down harder, pinning Louie's as she rapidly counted to ten, cheering gleefully. "I won the thumb war! Now you gotta pay for the sodas."

" _Thanks_ , Duford," Louie said tartly, then glanced at the winner. "Also, we're making out? Wow, Webs, you shoulda told me. I would've broken out the nice picnic blanket."

Huey was panting, hands on his knees from the sudden exertion. "I _told_ him he was being stupid, but does he listen? Noooo."

Louie sent him finger guns, complete with clicking noises. "I move for _Dewey_ to pay for the sodas. To make up for interrupting us."

"You just don't want to pay," Webby accused playfully, shoving his shoulder.

"Guilty as charged."

* * *

"So... it's _not_ romantic?"

Louie and Webby had led them to a tiny diner, open twenty-four-seven. The woman at the counter seemed to know them well enough to give them seats outside. It was too late for anyone else to be out there, giving them a level of privacy. As per their request, Dewey had paid for their sodas, along with a espresso for Huey.

The youngest triplet raised a well-groomed eyebrow. "Dewey, I'm as gay as a three dollar bill. We all know that."

Webby paused between licking some salt off her fingers, having sequestered herself a plate of fries. "I'm pan, but I'm not into him like that. We're in a qpr."

"Okay. What's that?"

"Queerplatonic."

" _Okay_ ," Dewey repeated. "What's that?"

Webby shrugged. "It's like a relationship. But it's not, like, romantic. More of a deeper friendship. Not that friendship isn't deep! It is. Um. Crap, I lost it."

Louie typed the term into his phone, leaning across the table for Huey to read. "It's a platonic date-fest up in here, boys."

Huey handed the phone over to Dewey, who took it, brow wrinkled with concentration. "So it's like dating, only without kissing?"

He shrugged. "Some people kiss. Some people don't."

"I kiss him on the cheek sometimes," Webby volunteered, lifting a hand to rifle through his side-feathers. Louie was the only one to take after Uncle Scrooge's look, and they all knew he wasn't always happy about that, no matter how many times the older duck had told him it made him look dapper. "They're so soft! He's got a fluffy face!"

"Love you too, death metal."

"I love and support all of you," Huey said, sipping at his coffee. "And I really want to go back to bed."

Dewey was frowning and squinting at the screen. "But, like, you're gay. So why Webby?"

"Because she's cute? She's like a pocket-sized parcel of death and cupcakes."

"She _is_ pretty awesome."

"Aw, shucks, you guys," Webby choked out, torn between laughter and flattery. "And, Louie? You're a charmer with a soft gooey center. It's adorable."

Louie sighed pleasantly, taking a slug of his soda. "It's a damn shame we aren't in love. I could be your second-in-command after you take over the world."

Webby shrugged. "I don't see why you still can't be my best man. But I call keeping my name."

"Sure." Louie shrugged back. "Duck is a boring last name. Vanderquack has _style_."

Huey sighed and swigged his espresso like it was alcohol, tipping his head back. He set it on the table with a thump. "I'd just like to say that I'm not giving my baby brother away until he comes of age. That is all."

"I better catch the bouquet," Dewey told him, handing Louie his phone back. "And I get first go at the karaoke machine."

"'Kay."

"Why the big secret, anyway?"

Louie and Webby exchanged a look. Louie answered. "Well, we just decided to try this out, what, two weeks ago? We're still testing the waters." His eyes flickered away. "And I do _not_ want to have this conversation with Scrooge. I just don't."

"Ah," Dewey said, looking mildly guilty. "Got it. Sorry, bro."

"It's fine, it's fine."

"Love you, Louie."

"Love you too, dork."

 **Author's Note: Okay, this is honestly the cutest thing I've written in, like, forever. Though I do always get concerned when I portray things like queerplatonic relationships- that I'll portray them _wrong_ , namely. And (as always) if I have, _please_ tell me. **

**-Mandaree1**


End file.
